"Mara, remember, there is a pretender out there somewhere who is interested in you and the Chronicle. The more we learn, the better prepared we will be. The only way we can gather information is to talk to others who were on the flight. The pilot might have a unique perspective on events. It doesn't sound like Mr. Sandoval is going to be around much longer, so we should talk to him."

"I don't know. It seems like a terrible time just to drop in. I mean, the guy is dying, and I'm not sure how keen I am on dealing with another one of those freaky pa.s.sengers. I am still getting over the Gambles."

"You're the one who wants to get her life back. That won't happened if you just hide here waiting for the next freak, as you call them, to show up. Besides I already talked to Mrs. Sandoval, and she said we could stop by. I told her that we wanted to thank her husband for bringing us home safely."

"Why do I think I'm going to regret this?"

"Look, he's sick. I don't think it is likely we'll have to fight him off."

"Where do they live?"

"Just a few blocks off Cedar Hill Boulevard over in southwest Portland."

"Great. I suppose you want to take the Ross Island Bridge."

"That's the correct direction. What's wrong with the Ross Island Bridge?"

"Let's go. I'll explain it on the way."

Mara held open the shop door for Ping and followed him outside. She pulled the door closed, reopened it and slammed it shut to get it all the way closed. The frame had a tendency to swell when the air was damp. Engaging the dead bolt took two tries as well. When she turned from the door, Ping had already crossed the sidewalk to his car where Sam stood, eating a candy bar. He held it up and pointed it at Mara with a look of amazement on his face.

"Don't tell me. They don't have chocolate where you come from," she said as she got into the front pa.s.senger seat.

"Of course they have chocolate. I've just never eaten it before."

"Well, it looks like you came to the right realm to pig-out. Just keep in mind we have fat farms too."

"What are fat farms?"

"Keep eating pizza, corn dogs and candy bars, you'll find out."

"We've already discussed working on a better diet and getting a little more exercise," Ping said as they drove away. "So tell me, what is your concern with the Ross Island Bridge?"

"I have a fear of water. Bridges kind of stress me out, especially the small low ones that are close to water," Mara said. "There is one in Seattle that actually floats on the water. That's the only one I absolutely will not cross, so far."

"What does that stem from?" Ping asked.

"No one knows. I was born that way," she said. "I didn't slip in the tub or almost drown while swimming. Nothing like that at all."

"My sister got pulled into a serpent pool by a blood eel when she was five. She almost drowned. She would never go near the water either," Sam said.

Mara shivered.

CHAPTER 40.

CAROL SANDOVAL'S SMILE deepened the lines around her tired eyes as she welcomed Ping, Mara and Sam into the living room of her split-level brick home. She pushed an unruly strand of silver hair behind her ear as she pointed them toward a long couch the color of oatmeal. Once they were seated, she sat across from them in a high-backed leather chair where she listed to one side, using the arm for support instead of sitting back. For a moment there wasn't a sound except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

"Thank you so much for seeing us," Ping said. "I was sorry to read of Mr. Sandoval's illness and wanted to make sure he knew the pa.s.sengers appreciated his efforts to keep us safe on the flight."

"That is so kind of you." She settled back in her chair. "It's been quite a challenge since the crash with Matt's illness. Have the two of you fully recovered?"

"We're beginning to get back to normal. It was a most unusual experience," Ping said.

"What about you, young lady? Are you feeling better? I read in the paper you got a b.u.mp on the head and had to spend some time in the hospital yourself."

"They kept me largely out of an abundance of caution. I'm better now." Mara nodded.

"That's wonderful. I wish there was something we could do for my Matt. He's had a tough time these past few weeks."

"The newspaper didn't report many details about your husband's condition. How is he doing?" Ping asked.

"There's nothing the doctors can do for him. They don't know what's wrong. He has trouble breathing, and they say his blood work is unintelligible. Two specialists from back East came out, and they said it looked like he was suffering from a systemic deficiency of some kind, but they can't seem to isolate it." She looked at her hands while she spoke. "One of them said it looked like he is slowly suffocating from the lack of some element. He probably has only a couple days left. He didn't want to spend them in the hospital, so I brought him home. He's in our bedroom resting."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"You know, since the crash, he's not been the same. Apart from the illness, I mean."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been sweethearts since middle school, almost sixty years now. I know him as well as I know myself. He has always been a mix of kindness and bluntness. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body and would never purposely hurt anyone, but he always spoke his mind plainly. Since he got back from the crash, he pretty much keeps everything to himself. He's still the kind man I fell in love with all those years ago, but the bluntness is gone. He keeps everything inside now. It's not like he's a different person, just a slightly different version of himself. You know what I mean?"

"I think I do, Mrs. Sandoval."

Ping and Carol Sandoval locked eyes for several minutes, communicating something unspoken. She seemed to be trying to a.s.sess what to say next, looked for permission to go further.

"I love that man more than anything in the world." Her voice cracked as she spoke, tears pooled in her eyes. "But I think he doesn't belong here with me anymore. I think he belongs somewhere else."

"Where do you think he belongs, Mrs. Sandoval?" Ping asked.

"I don't know, but he says he belongs someplace where..."

"Where what?"

"Where the sky is green." She looked away embarra.s.sed, paused for a minute or so and said, "The day he came home from the crash, he had the most amazed look on his face. He looked up to the sky and asked me what happened. 'Why is it blue?' When I asked him what color he thought it should be, he looked at me and said, 'Green, of course.' I thought he was suffering some kind of post-traumatic stress from the crash. It just sounded so crazy, but he was so sincere. Then he started to get sick. He couldn't breathe well, and it just got worse.

"After a few days he started to talk about being from a different dimension, a place sort of like this, but slightly different. He said he was married to me there and that he loved me very much. I asked him if he wanted to go back, and he said he would never do anything to hurt me. Isn't that sweet?

"Another time I asked him if he thought the blue atmosphere was killing him and he said he thought there was something missing from it that he needed, like what the doctors said. That was a couple days ago. Since then he has been drifting in and out of consciousness, delirious. When he wakes up, he keeps asking for someone. I think it might be a priest or something like that. I think he knows he's going to die soon and wants someone to comfort him."

"Who is he asking for?"

"I'm not sure I'm hearing it correctly, but it sounds like he wants me to get someone called a progenitor."

Ping and Sam looked at Mara. Mrs. Sandoval noticed.

"What? Does that word mean something to you?" She looked at Mara.

"I, I..." Mara stammered, turned red and looked to Ping for help.

"Mrs. Sandoval, would you give us a few minutes to talk privately? I know it's rude to ask in your own home."

"Not at all. I need to check on my husband. I will be back in a few minutes." She stood up and forced a nervous smile as she left the room.

Mara turned on Ping. "This is a setup of some kind. Her husband just happens to ask for a progenitor, and you just happen to deliver one to her?" She poked a finger at her own chest.

Ping smiled. "At least you admit you are a progenitor."

"I'm admitting nothing. What is going on here?"

"n.o.body is plotting against you or setting you up. You knew Mr. Sandoval was on the flight and he was from another realm before you got here. You knew he was sick. Sam and I convinced you that we were from a different realm. Why should it be so shocking that a woman, who has been married for fifty years, could be convinced that her husband's counterpart has crossed over?"

"So what should we do now?

"A man is dying, and you have the ability to send him to a place that will likely save his life. What do you think you should do?"

"Ping, just because I can activate the Chronicle doesn't mean I can send him back to his realm. I've never done it before. Why don't you just go in there and poke him with a toothbrush and push him back to where he belongs?"

"We cannot purposely ignite an explosion that may or may not send him where he needs to go. Remember, it is just a theory, an a.s.sumption that people are always pushed back to their own realms. We've never been on the other side of the transaction to confirm that people actually arrive safely. Besides, in his weakened state, it might kill him, not to mention one of us. We had no other option with the Gambles. Here and now, it would be foolhardy to do that when you could simply send him home with the Chronicle."

"Well, I didn't bring it."

Ping reached into his pocket and handed it to her.

"And you didn't plan any of this?"

"I simply prepared for contingencies. That's all."

"So do you think Mrs. Sandoval actually believes her husband is from another realm?"

"Yes, Mara. I do believe it," Mrs. Sandoval stepped into the living room. "Are you one of these progenitors?"

"She's probably not willing to admit it at this point, but she is," Ping said.

Mara glared at him.

"May I ask you a question?" Mrs. Sandoval locked eyes with Mara.

"Go ahead."

"Can you send Matt back to where he's supposed to be?"

Mara looked down at the Chronicle in her hands. "Mrs. Sandoval, you need to understand a few things. I've never actually done this. I can't guarantee anything. Also, if this works, this version of your husband will go back to his realm, but there is nothing I can do to bring back the original, the husband you know."

"I understand. All I want is for you to get him home where he can breathe again. Can you do that?"

Mara's throat caught for a few seconds, but she cleared it and said, "I will try."

"Matt's awake. Come on, and I'll introduce you."

As they moved to follow her down the hall to the master bedroom, Ping pulled Sam aside. "I think it might be a good idea for you to wait here. We don't want to attract your mother's attention while the Chronicle is active."

"Good idea," he said, sitting back down on the couch.

Matt Sandoval looked much older than a man in his sixties. Gray and sallow, propped up on several pillows, he wheezed and labored to shift around on the bed. He appeared to be alert and coherent. His wife sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

"Honey, this is Mara and Mr. Ping," she said. "Mara is a progenitor."

Mara blushed. Mr. Sandoval's eyes widened. He lifted a shaky hand and pointed. "You can send me home?"

"Is that what you want, to go home?" Mara asked.

His eyes watered and looked up at his wife. "Green skies."

"Soon, honey. You'll have green skies as far as you can see." Tears rolled down her cheek.

He looked concerned and touched her cheek. "Okay?"

"Yes, sweetheart. It is okay for you to go. I want you to live and breathe again."

The sick man tried to heave himself off the bed to reach his wife. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back. She leaned down and kissed him softly. "I will always love you." She locked eyes with her husband but said to Mara, "Go ahead."

Mara lifted the Chronicle and envisioned the glowing ball of blue light. As it began to spin and glow and morph into the ball of swirling mercury, Mrs. Sandoval's gaze remained fixed on her husband.

Once the ball floated above Mara's hand, she said, "Show me creation."

The translucent bubble filled the room. The lines and nodes wound around them. After a minute, a node appeared just above Mr. Sandoval's laboring chest. Mara leaned into the web of lines and tapped the node. It burst into a brilliant point of light that quickly collapsed into a black tear in the bubble. Air whipped into the opening and pulled on Mr. Sandoval's pajama top. A breeze swept through the room. The old man gazed into the blackness and smiled. His body began to glow, radiating a bright shade of green. The gap grew closer to him, its draw more insistent. His wife held on to the bedpost, resisting the pull of the opening as tears flew off her cheeks into the void. Mr. Sandoval dissolved into a radiant mist that streamed into the blackness. When the last luminescent particle disappeared, the gash closed, and the node reappeared in a brilliant flash. Mr. Sandoval was gone.

"Enough," Mara said.

The Chronicle winked out and dropped into her hand.

Mrs. Sandoval wiped the hair from her face. "You are a remarkable young lady. Thank you for saving my husband."

CHAPTER 41.